Violet Victory
by Berrygrey
Summary: When Floyd Lawton's little sister shows up starving and homeless, he has no choice but to take her in. Violet Lawton just wants to stay with her brother and find her parents' murderer, but when Floyd's work places her in constant danger, she has to gather all of her strength and fight a power bigger than both of them.
1. Chapter 1

Violet clutched her knife tightly to her chest. Her hands were shaking from the cold and she was underdressed, but she refused to let the knife go, because it was her only remaining lifeline. Her bank account had been empty for weeks, just like her stomach, and she hadn't slept with a roof over her head in a long time.

She climbed up the fire escape with steady determination. When she reached the window of the third story, she crouched down to the balls of her feet and slipped the blade under the frame. It was hard for her to comprehend that six months ago she never would have dreamed about breaking and entering. She grit her teeth as it hit a patch of resistance and applied her full body weight to the handle until she fell forward with a jolt.

Grit stung at her fingertips and dug into her palms, but she ignored the pain and pushed herself back up. She slid the window open and stepped through in an almost graceful manner.

The room was small and sparsely decorated. A single table and chair stood in the corner with a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on top. Violet wrinkled her nose when she saw it. Of course he had been drinking. She would have to knock that out of him.

She stepped forward with the intention of chucking the bottle out of the now open window, but barely got two steps before she felt the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of her head.

She froze with one foot in the air. She hadn't noticed him earlier, but that was his job after all. Or something like that. He stood close behind her, just within range to raise the hairs on the back of her neck. He said nothing. He was clearly waiting for her to make the next move.

"Are you going to shoot your own sister, Floyd? I thought we were closer than that." The gun was immediately removed, and he reached over her shoulder and spun her around in one swift movement.

"Violet?" he said as he took in her battered form.

"The one and only," she said, grinning weakly. She hadn't seen her brother in three years. He had changed drastically since then. He had grown taller, almost reaching six feet, and his hair had gotten shaggy, but the thing that startled Violet the most was the eyepatch that covered his right eye.

"Vi…what are you doing here? Why aren't you back in Nebraska? And how the hell did you find me?"

"Well, finding you was actually really hard now that you mention it," she said. She pulled away from him and walked over to the fridge. She opened it up and started sorting through the mold-covered food until she managed to find an edible piece of pizza buried in the back. "It was really inconvenient," she continued. "I had to completely wipe out my bank account just to figure out what state you were in. Finding out the rest required a variety of favors. I think I might actually be a felon now."

"Quit avoiding my first two questions Vi. Why are you here? Where are mom and dad?"

Violet stilled for a moment before looking down at her feet. "Mom and Dad aren't exactly in the picture anymore. You're all I got left, Floyd."

Violet's confession left him reeling. His parents were dead or gone and he didn't even know about it. Who had been taking care of his little sister? She was only seventeen.

"I see," he finally said. "You'll just have to stay with me then." That threw a wrench in his plans. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Violet, but he would have to figure out what to do with her. He could hardly take her on assignments with him. No, that was way too dangerous. He could figure that out later though.

She had already eaten the last of his food, but she looked exhausted. "Are you sure?" she murmured. She had come in the hope that that was what he would say, but now that he was actually saying it, she felt the need to not inconvenience him.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Where the hell else would you go anyways? The bedroom is three doors down on the right." He was gruff in the way he said it, but then again he was always gruff.

Violet turned to go, but before she got very far, she paused and turned back to Floyd. She held her hands loosely by her side in an awkward manner before launching herself at him. He returned the hug, feeling all the desperation and pain she poured into it.

When she finally untangled herself, she grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and made her way down the hall where she promptly fell in bed and into a deep slumber.

Floyd settled himself into the solitary chair he owned, and poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bottle sitting on the table. If he had a couch, he would have slept on that, but he did not have a couch, and the chair would serve him just fine. He let out a deep sigh and almost relaxed as the moon rose higher and higher in the sky.


	2. Chapter 2

When Violet woke up, she was alone in the apartment. After a brief search, she discovered a note on the table.

Dear Violet,

Went to get food. Be back shortly. –Floyd

She set the note down with a contemplative sigh. She was going to have to tell him something of what happened, at least enough to pacify him. She didn't think she could handle telling the entire story. Not yet at least.

She took advantage of her brother's absence to explore his small apartment. There were only five rooms in the entire flat. There was the room she had broken into, the bedroom, a tiny kitchen, bathroom, and a door that was locked. The place was filthy, so after she pulled all the sleep from her eyes, she started cleaning. The first thing on her list was to throw away all the rotten food in the fridge. The milk was so far gone she was sure it had its own ecosystem.

It was relaxing for her to clean. She had been a neat person before she left home, but while finding her brother, she had been to and slept in the lowest of low places. She'd had to go for weeks without a shower, and for her to be able to control something as simple as her environment gave her a new purpose.

After she pulled all the trash, she swept the floors and washed the windows. She briefly looked for the whiskey from the previous night, but Floyd had either drunk it all or hid it very well. It only took her thirty minutes to make the place presentable, and as she was dusting off her hands in satisfaction, Floyd walked in laden with bags.

"I got food," he said. He sorted through the bags until he found a bagel, which he tossed to her.

Violet snarfed it down as he watched with raised eyebrows. When she finished, she realized what she had done and her cheeks flushed, but as she did so, Floyd caught sight of an open wound on the back of her neck.

He immediately paused and evaluated her with more care. The sunlight revealed what he hadn't seen last night, and for the first time he realized that she badly needed medical attention. Her clothes were tattered and hung so loosely on her malnourished frame, that Floyd had no doubt he could have counted all her ribs. Cuts and abrasions littered her arms and legs, and the bags under her eyes were so dark they almost looked like they had been painted on.

"What the hell happened to you, Vi? You look like a nightmare come true."

"Like I said, it was really hard finding you."

"Make no mistake, we are talking about this later," he warned. "But let's just get you cleaned up right now. Go and take a shower. I'll set some of my clothes in there for you."

"Okay, thanks." Violet said, turning to go. It stung slightly at her pride to have him see her in such a terrible state, but she would just have to suck it up, because he was the only one who could help her.

She left the room, and a few minutes later Floyd heard the shower start. He walked into the bedroom and shuffled loosely through his drawers, looking for anything that might fit her. He grabbed a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans with his smallest belt. It would work until she could wash her own clothes. Her shirt would have to be thrown out though. It was in shreds and hardly deserved to be called clothing. He gathered up the pile in his arms, but before he left, he cracked a smile at the neatly made bed. That bed hadn't been made once since he'd moved in. When Violet finally emerged from the bathroom, she was intercepted by Floyd bearing a medical kit.

"Let's get this show on the road." He wasn't looking forward to fixing her. It was going to be painful for the both of them.

"Yeah, alright. Where do you need me?" she asked, pulling her chocolate hair into a long braid.

"Sit in the chair. I'm going to get your arms and neck first. Roll up your sleeves."

She did as he asked and watched as he pulled out the bottle of whiskey from seemingly nowhere and a washcloth.

"Are we just cleaning them?" she asked, glancing at her multiple wounds.

"I think so. They need to breathe if they're going to heal quickly."

Thirty minutes and hundreds of curses later, Violet was through. She winced slightly as she pulled her shirt back down to cover her back.

"You doing okay, Vi?" Floyd asked.

"Yeah, just peachy," she muttered back. "What are we doing today?"

"I need to go cancel a business meeting. After that is up to you, although we do need to finish our conversation from last night."

"The story's pretty simple really. The house burned down. Mom and Dad got trapped inside. I made it out."

"Huh. Well I can't really say I'm sorry to see either of them go, but I wish I had known. I would have come and gotten you."

"Yeah well," Violet said averting her eyes. "I'm just glad I put that behind me now."

Floyd nodded his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm headed out then. Stay here until I come back. It should only be a few hours."

"Yeah, sure thing." Violet nodded absently. Floyd was leaving for a 'business meeting' and she would have the apartment to herself again.

She heard him rustling around in the bedroom for a minute before he called out a goodbye. As soon as she heard the door lock behind him she shot up from her chair and walked briskly down the hall. She didn't know exactly what her brother did for a living, but it was clearly less than legal, and she knew that the answer was behind that locked door.

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The man was waiting for Floyd in the cafe. He had a briefcase hanging by his side, and when Floyd slid into the seat across the table, the man's hand tightened around the handle. Floyd sat patiently until the man finally decided to speak.

"Why did you call this meeting? My client does not appreciate disruptions to their plans."

"Well, he's going to be sorely disappointed," Deadshot stated with a smirk. "Something's come up. I'm backing out of the deal. He's going to have to find someone else to do his dirty work."

The man's eyes narrowed and he spat out a curse. "Do you even realize what you're doing? My client won't let you get away with something like this. He is going to come after you without mercy."

"He's going to have a hard time killing me off."

The man pursed his lips and pulled the briefcase into his lap. "You won't receive any of the money promised to you if you carry this through."

Floyd didn't even grace the man with a response. He just left. The man was right; his client would send someone to take him out within the hour. It would be easy for Floyd to deal with it, but he would need to get Vi out of the apartment for a few hours.

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Floyd's plan was derailed when he got stuck in rush hour traffic. He no longer had the advantage of time on his side, and even dipping and weaving around cars on his motorcycle, he returned much later than he should have.

When he entered the apartment though, he realized he had a new problem. Violet was sitting on a crate in the middle of his office with her head in her hands. The sight of her surrounded by his guns and knives and grenades left him feeling sick to his stomach.

"Vi, how did you get in here? I left the door locked," he said softly.

"The top of a door frame isn't the best place to hide a key," she bitterly stated. There was thick silence before either of them spoke. Violet removed her hands from her face and started wringing them in her lap while Floyd leaned against the door frame, resisting the urge to drum his fingers.

"Why the hell do you have throwing knives mounted on the wall? Why do you need all these weapons?"

"Violet, I promise that I will tell you everything, but right now you have to get out of the apartment. Stay away for a few hours."

"No. Absolutely not."

"Violet! I'm being serious! You have to go!"

"I'm being serious too. I'm not leaving," she added calmly.

"Why won't you leave?" Floyd was getting frustrated. He had ten minutes max before a hit man arrived, and Violet's timing could not have been worse.

"How do I even know you're still going to be here when I get back?" Violet challenged, fire blazing in her eyes.

"Violet," Floyd forced out. "I'm not going to leave you behind."

"And how the hell do I know that? You did it before! What's going to keep you from doing it again?"

"Vi…" Floyd murmured. He could tell that she was on the verge of tears. "I never meant to leave you. I was just…"

He was cut off by the sound of his front door being kicked in. Instinct immediately engaged, he dove forward, roughly knocking Violet to the floor, and rolled to his feet. He could hear the man quickly stomping through the hall, so ignoring his sister's startled shriek, he grabbed the nearest handgun and pointed it at the door right as a hulk of a man burst through.

Floyd didn't blink when he shot him between the eyes. He was trained much better than that. Violet however, was in no way prepared to see a man put down right in front of her and froze in horror, unable to avert her eyes.

Floyd moved quickly, checking the hall for more men, and pulling a variety of weapons from the man's corpse. Only after he secured the area did he rush to check on Violet. He pulled her up by her arms, and after checking her over quickly, he waved his hand in front of her blank stare—trying to draw her attention away from the blood spattered wall. She snapped back into focus.

"You just killed a man," she said, incredulous. "An armed man broke into your house and you killed him with one of the MANY guns you own." She was yelling at that point, and wrenched herself Floyd's grasp. "You just killed a man, and you don't even seem the least bit sorry for it!"

Her eyes widened in realization as she looked at his set face. "This isn't the first time you've killed someone. Is it? That's what all these weapons are for. It's all part of your job, whatever that is."

"No Vi, it is my job."

"You can't," she gasped. She wasn't shocked, but she was certainly desperate. "You have to stop."

"And do what? I have enemies now, Vi. If I let my guard down for even a second, they will find and kill me. You too if they get the chance!"

"Well," she said with finality. "You won't have to worry about that much longer. I'm leaving-tonight. It was a mistake for me to even come here in the first place."

"Well fuck, Violet! Where the hell are you going to go?" Floyd spat. He had been content not being a part of her life while she was living with their parents, but she didn't have them anymore, and Violet was in no way ready to take on the slums of the world.

"Anywhere would be better that here! I'd rather sleep under a bridge than stay with you one more night!" Her furious words stung him. Even though she hadn't been staying with him for long, he had gotten his hopes up about everything working out, and now he could see that dream washing away.

"Please, Vi," he said, dropping his voice. "Don't leave. At least stay for a while. I don't want you out on the streets in the middle of winter."

"So I should just stay here because you want me to? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes."

"Yes? What the hell kind of argument is that?"

"Yes. Violet, I need you to stay here tonight because I can't think of anything worse than you being out there alone."

She couldn't speak. It was as if the words had been yanked off her tongue. He seemed sincere in what he said, and truth be told, while she was terrified of what he had done, she was not afraid of him.

"Fine," she said finally. "I'll spend the night. ONE night. I'm…I'm going to bed now."

Floyd let out a sigh of relief and gestured to the body. "This won't be here in the morning. I promise."

"Don't give me details, Floyd. Just get it done and over with." She drifted slowly out of the room. She had a lot to think about, but that didn't mean she wanted to. What she wanted to do was go to sleep. She could think about it in the morning. Her brother was a murderer.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well?" Floyd asked. Violet had seated him at the table, and had been staring at him with her arms crossed for the last two minutes.

"I've decided to stay with you. For real, not just for the night. I know it might not have seemed like it last night, but I was listening to what you said, and with the," Violet paused and cleared her throat as if she was having a hard time getting the words out. "delicate nature of your job in mind, I've decided that I want to stay with you. If you'll have me."

"That's not even a question, Vi," Floyd immediately added, "Of course you can stay."

She hung her head down to her chest and closed her eyes. Even though she had gone to bed ridiculously early last night, her sleep had been fitful and incomplete. She needed some kind of food. "Now that that's out of the way, I'm making French toast. Do you want any?"

Floyd gave her a nod and to make conversation as she set to work, he asked, "So when did you learn how to cook?"

"When mom decided that she was tired of feeding me." Violet gave a rueful smile as she stared down at the pan. "It was pretty soon after you left actually. Mom went off the deep end and stopped doing things. She wouldn't cook. She wouldn't clean. Some days she wouldn't even get out of bed. It took Dad almost an entire year to beat her back onto her feet. I learned in the meantime though."

"How bad was Dad at the end? with Mom?"

"He wasn't actually that bad towards the end. Went through a good patch right before the house burned up. He was giving mom and me little gifts left and right."

Floyd leaned back in his seat and propped his feet up on the table. His father had always been abusive towards his mother, but he was glad to hear that it hadn't extended towards Violet.

"Well, speaking of gifts, I have a few for you."

Violet looked up in interest. "What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters we're moving."

"Moving? Why?"

"I was going to move anyways before you found me. I never stay in one place for too long, and this job is done so…onto the next place."

"Alright," Violet said, slightly confused. "That's nice to know and all, but I don't understand how that's a present. Aside from not being scared of finding a dead body in the closet."

"Fair enough. That's not the real present though. I'm going to get you some actual belongings. I can't imagine that you enjoy wearing rags."

"Aww, Floyd," Violet smirked. "Are you trying to tell me you don't want your little sister looking homeless? How thoughtful of you." She slid a plate in front of him and leaned forward, pressing her palms into the table. "When are we going to leave?"

"Now. We can get you some stuff on the way and spend the night in a hotel." He stood and Violet saw the duffle bag behind him for the first time.

"Alright. Where are we going anyhow?"

"Tampa, Florida."

"Why there?"

"That's where my next job is."

Violet's stomach turned and she pushed her plate away. Her appetite disappeared with his announcement.

"So you're still going to work then?"

Floyd froze, sensing how loaded her question was. "I have to feed us somehow, right?"

"…right."

"Look, Vi, just don't worry about it okay? Everything's going to be fine. We should just focus on getting down to Florida. In the meantime though, go ahead and do whatever it is you need to do to get ready to leave."

Violet nodded her head absentmindedly, and Floyd knew that he hadn't heard the last of the matter.

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Violet crossed her legs for the fifth time and watched the trees zip past from the car window. Floyd had been questioning her for the last ten minutes about how she had located him.

"So let's get this straight; you spent all of your money getting leads as to who to contact regarding my whereabouts. Then you spent all of mom and dad's money actually paying off that person to learn what state I was in."

"Yep."

"How the hell did you find me then? Because Georgia's an awfully big place to go looking for one person."

"I found your employer."

"You what?"

"I sold all the possessions I had left, and paid off a few hookers to learn who had recently hired someone for less-than-legal business. Turns out your boss really sleeps around. I wonder if his wife knows," she added absentmindedly.

"Quit trying to distract me and finish the story."

"Fine. I did a little bit of snooping at his base of operations and found your address somewhere in the mix of papers."

Floyd had to stop himself from slamming the brake on the pickup he was driving. "WHAT?"

He looked over at her in shock. "You broke into a crime lord's hideout?"

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Eyes on the road! Well…eye on the road," she snickered.

He gave her a light glare before continuing. "Vi, that's about the dumbest thing you can do right there."

"Yeah well, desperate times bro."

"How'd you get around anyhow? I thought you couldn't drive yet."

"Speaking of driving," she quickly countered. "Should you be driving with one eye? Is that even legal?"

"Answer me, Vi."

"Well, you kill people for a living. I doubt you care about legal. But is it safe?"

"Vi…"

"I mean, don't you care about the safety of your passengers? There's collateral damage here!"

"Violet!" he snapped, "How did you get around?"

She quieted down and gave him a solid stare. Her evasion tactic had failed. It wouldn't be as easy to get away with shit with him as it had been with her mother.

"I caught rides here and there."

"What? Like with a butterfly net?" he shot back.

"No, Floyd." She said angrily. "I hitchhiked."

They had reached the mall by then, and Floyd was ready to explode when he pulled into a parking space.

"God fucking damn it. Do you even realize how dangerous that is? You're lucky to be alive! Do you even know what those people could have done to you?"

"I know exactly what they could have done to me Floyd! They tried! Sometimes they did! Something you just can't seem to grasp is exactly how desperate I was to find you."

"They hurt you?" Floyd growled softly. "Who were they?" He was staring with ferocity at the steering wheel, and Violet sensed that he was no longer angry with her. He was furious.

"I don't know Floyd. I only have their first names, and sometimes not even that," she pleaded gently. "It doesn't matter anymore though. It's over, and I'm here now. Can we please just drop it?"

"Fine." Floyd got out of the car abruptly and slammed the door behind him. Violet let out a sigh and followed him.

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"While you're out, look for strong, durable clothing. You only need two sets; we're going to be moving around a lot. Try for darker colors. Don't worry about things like a toothbrush or anything. We can pick a new one up in Florida. Go ahead and pick up a backpack too."

Contrary to what Violet originally believed, Floyd was not going shopping with her. He had to arrange the transportation of his guns. There was no way the truck would fit them all. So now he was lecturing her on what and what not to buy.

"I'll be fine, Floyd. What time will you be back?"

"Give me three hours. Stay safe, okay?"

"Yeah, alright," she said, giving him a teasing smile. "I'm just going to go step in front of a bus, okay?"

"You smart ass," he said, rolling his eye. He left her in the mall foyer. She took a deep breath and clutched a wad of money tightly in her pocket. She had to begin somewhere.

Not long after, Violet was completely decked out in black. She had traded her tattered clothes in for fresh jeans, a short sleeved shirt, and tennis shoes. She had kept her necklace though. It was long and silver, and held a running fox on the end. It had been a gift from her mother, who had gotten it from her mother. The necklace had been passed down her family for generations, and Violet had been given it for her sixteenth birthday.

Her new backpack hung limply in her hand as she sat on the curb, waiting for her brother. She was humming a mindless tune to herself when a middle aged man sat himself down right next to her. She tried to jump up, but he grabbed her wrist tightly before she could.

"Hey sweetheart. How you doing today?"

Violet held his creeping stare with defiance. She had dealt with men like this before; she couldn't show him she was scared.

"Go try someone else."

"Whatever, girly." The man staggered off with stale beer still on his breath.

"What was that about?"

Floyd's voice jumped out at Violet. He seemed to have emerged from the wall behind her and was cautiously watching the man walk away.

"It was nothing. He just wanted a piece of tail," she said as she shook her head slowly.

"I could have taken care of him for you, but good work. Let's hit the road. I want to get the hell out of this town."


	4. Chapter 4

Violet woke up at exactly five in the morning like she had every day for the past two months. There was no alarm clock to assist her; she had trained herself to get up in time to make breakfast, and Floyd was an early riser as well.

He had truly eaten like a pig before she had taken over. If he was in a good mood, he would eat takeout. If he was in a bad mood, he skipped eating entirely and just moved straight to the cursed bottle.

There would be no more of that while she was around. She had never been able to wrestle his whiskey from him, but she was perfectly capable of making sure that he ate three full meals a day.

She pulled herself out of bed, trying to form a plan for the day. She would make omelets, Floyd would go off and do whatever it was he did during the day, and she would have to work out. They had just moved into the apartment last night, so she would have to clean the place like she always did when they switched location. That would only take up half of her day tops though. What she really needed a hobby. Something to learn and perfect when there was nothing else to do but watch TV.

As she pulled one of Floyd's sweatshirts over her head, she thought about her options. She could learn to play an instrument, but with how often they moved, an instrument would take up too much space. She wanted to do something physical anyways. Something useful. She posed the question to Floyd while they were eating.

"I need something to do in my spare time. Any suggestions?"

"Yeah," he snorted through a full mouth. "You could always fix that centipede problem of yours." He dodged the spoon she chucked at him, eyes lit with a temporary fury.

"I still hate you for that," she spat. They were referring to an incident from last week where Floyd had learned about her paralyzing fear of centipedes and promptly let 20 of them loose in her room.

"Besides," she continued. "I'm not frightened of them anymore. Just revolted."

"You could start dancing again," said Floyd, giving it some serious thought. "Didn't you used to do ballet?"

Violet gave him an unimpressed glance. "I haven't done ballet since fourth grade, and I don't plan to start back up now. You could teach me how to shoot."

"Absolutely not," he said without so much as a glance up. "There is no way I'm going to let you start shooting. No way in hell."

He stood up with his plate in his hand and set it in the sink. Violet gave a loud huff of annoyance and set to work cleaning up, loudly banging pots and pans together.

"I could teach you how to throw knives though." Floyd spoke so quietly she almost didn't hear him. "I don't want you shooting, but it wouldn't be a terrible idea if you learned some form of combat. I take it you don't know much right now?"

"Only what I've picked up on the streets." She would be lying if she said she wasn't shocked by his statement. Over the past few weeks he'd been nothing but a smothering, overprotective brother. She hadn't been allowed to do anything remotely physical while her body healed. He'd been making her eat almost nonstop in an effort to put some weight back on her malnourished frame. She had submitted to the treatment at first, but lately it had been getting under her skin. A combat skill sounded like a breath of fresh air. Especially because Floyd was the one offering. Besides, knife throwing was really cool.

"I think I have a set of knives you can practice with somewhere. I'll pull them out later today. Anyways, I have a job here next week, so I'm going to meet my contractor today. I'll be home around three."

Violet nodded her head in acknowledgement and briefly looked up from the pan she was drying to give him a quick hug before he left. She locked the door behind him and set her teeth. Victory tasted sweet.

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"Broaden your stance," Floyd ordered. "You need a good foundation if you want to do any damage."

"I know," Violet shot back. "I've watched a lot of action movies. You just got to give me a little time to figure out what I'm doing."

"Your target isn't going to give you a little time to figure out what you're doing," he said dryly.

"That one is." Violet pointed at the large target sitting 20 feet away from them.

"Shut up and fix your stance, smart ass."

Violet rolled her eyes and did as her 'commander' ordered.

"Do you remember how to hold the knife?"

"Yeah. I remember." Violet only vaguely remembered in reality, but she would never admit that to him. She could always bluff her way through it.

"Good. Most of the motion should come to you naturally. Just make sure you keep your arm in a straight line and don't rotate your hips too much." He gave her an assessing look and corrected a few things before gesturing at the target.

Violet took a deep breath before lunging forward slightly and launching the knife gracefully. She barely managed to hit the target, and it was with the wrong end so the knife clattered harmlessly to the floor. She squinted in confusion. Surely she was more coordinated than that.

"What happened?" she exclaimed.

"Oh god, Vi…" Floyd sighed. "How in the world did you survive on the streets?"

"By associating myself with people who could. But what did I do wrong?"

"You let go of the knife too early. You can fix it with practice. Keep at it. You'll get better. I'm going to bed. You might want to do the same pretty soon."

Violet didn't bother replying. She just grabbed the next knife and threw it. Floyd shook his head as that knife fell too. He wouldn't be a responsible caretaker if he didn't teach her how to defend herself.

He had been concerned about the way she seemed to completely ignore what had happened back in Georgia. It was like she had just pushed it to the back of her mind. She was trying to create a distinction between her life and his life while living in complete denial of the overlap. It wasn't healthy, and while he was hardly an expert in mental health, he cared about her well being much more than his own. Her perfect world would come crashing down sooner or later if she didn't deal with what she'd witnessed, and the wreckage would not be pretty.

He had been pleasantly surprised by how easily she fit into his life. He had occasionally stopped by to visit her after he left home, but it was always brief and unexpected. She was thirteen the last time he'd seen her, but the girl she was now was so much more than that. He swelled with a slightly cynical pride when he realized that there was no way he could bring himself to return to the life he had before she arrived.

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"So what the hell happened to your eye?" Violet asked. Her feet were propped up on Floyd's lap while he watched the news, and she fiddled with the ends of her hair. She had been living with him for almost a third of a year, and it had never occurred to her to ask him, although she had wondered about it often.

"Mission gone wrong," he muttered back at her.

"Well, then tell me about it."

"You know about that vigilante in Starling City? I went toe to toe with him and lost. I heard he had a whole team now. I call them Team Arrow."

"So you lost your eye to a man in a green hood with a bow and arrow?"

"No. I lost my eye to a man in a green hood with a bow and arrow and very good aim."

Violet scoffed at his witty reply and went back to playing with her braid. They relapsed into silence before Violet spoke up again.

"So why are you trying to hide that fact that you keep a journal?"

Floyd sighed and turned off the TV. Vi was clearly in a chatty mood, and there was so way he was going to get anything done until she had talked herself out.

"I don't keep a journal, Vi."

"Sure you don't. Quit lying through your teeth, you snake. I've seen you writing in it."

"How about you mind your own business, huh?"

"Okay, okay," she defended, raising her arms in surrender. "Just know that I don't judge you for needing an outlet for your emotions. You have the same personal rights as any other hitman."

Floyd scowled and sent her a glare with his remaining eye. She was actually right. He did keep a journal. It was just a habit of his. It kept him at least a little bit sane. He would have to hide it though. If she found it, she wouldn't like what she read. It contained detailed descriptions of his missions and targets. She didn't need to read that. She had been freaked out enough when she found out what his tattoos meant, and still had to leave whenever she added a new one.

Floyd settled a sigh and pondered over his sister. She couldn't keep her illusion of a perfect family going for much longer. He knew he should do something about it, but he had no idea what.


End file.
